


Across the Blood Water

by katalicz



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Whump, i meant to finish this months ago oops, its not particularly shippy so you can read it however you wish, jager gets shot down and team gsg9 lose their shit, why am i so bad at summaries? we will never know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 06:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15189026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katalicz/pseuds/katalicz
Summary: When Doc learns that Jäger has been shot down over the town of Truth and Consequences, he thinks he is going to be sick.





	Across the Blood Water

**Author's Note:**

> I started this in April, completely forgot about it, then decided to finish it instead of finishing the other 4 half-written pieces I'm supposed to be working on (oops).  
> There will be another chapter (or maybe two!) focused on the team's reactions and Jäger's recovery!

Doc is exhausted.

He's been awake for over a day – which usually wouldn’t be a problem, since he's been awake for much longer plenty of times throughout his career. He’s used to odd hours and restless nights and sitting up with patients – it comes with the job, after all – but this is different.

It had taken four hours of planning and prepping before they could go and rescue the doctor (and thank _god_ she knows something about ending this crisis, or Doc might have started tearing his hair out); the mission itself had taken five hours to complete, stumbling through the hospital and trying their damn best to keep a low profile and only semi-succeeding. Doc isn’t sure how long he’d been awake before that. He doesn’t think he's got more than hour long naps here and there since arriving three days ago.

He's spent the past 18 or so hours since returning to their makeshift base digging through Mackintosh’s files – she’s got blood samples from patient zero, tissue samples, a whole wealth of ideas of what this disease may be, and despite Ash’s best efforts, Doc hasn’t yet returned to his tiny office to rest – he has to see his mission through, has to produce some sort of results. He can’t let this nightmare spread any further.

The doctor herself is asleep on a cot in the corner of the make shift medical bay. She’d managed to stay awake for precisely one hour after they’d got her to base - enough to explain what she’d been working on, enough for Doc to pick up where she’d left off. She’s been unconscious since, much to Ash’s worry, but Doc wouldn’t expect anything less. Non-combatants never deal with extreme survival situations very well, let alone ones of this scale and intensity and mind-numbing _horror_. He's surprised she made it out of there alive and sane, really, but he keeps that morbid thought to himself.

He’s in the middle of making himself yet another cup of coffee when the projected screen they’ve been using for video calls crackles to life, startling Ash from her tired pacing by the chunky computer, still waiting for the newest blood test results. Smoke comes out from his private section of the ward, where he’s doing _something_ with the tissue samples and a fumigator, and they gather around the screen without a word.

They’ve been waiting for a call for a while – Glaz and Buck and Lion are out on a mission for Thermite, at the moment, and should have returned a while ago. Doc’s heart leaps in his chest with panic as Thermite’s worried face fills the screen, and the quiet hope that the call was to say they were in the clear dies a silent death.

“There’s been an incident,” Thermite says with a wince, dragging a hand through his short hair anxiously and confirming Doc’s fears.

Ash and Doc glance at each other. Smoke crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. “You can’t just say _that_ , you twat - get on with it, we’re _busy_ ,” he says, voice still nasal from his broken nose.

Thermite winces again and says, “sorry, I know – the team is fine, mission complete, they're ready for extraction-”

“Then what’s the issue?” Ash interrupts, frowning pointedly.

“If you’d let me finish _speaking_ , I’d _tell_ you,” Thermite huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We sent Jäger in to pick them up. Something knew he was there, was lying in wait, or something, I'm not sure - he’s been shot down.”

The air leaves Doc’s lungs with a quiet wheeze, and he has to steady himself on the table. Ash is doing the same besides him, face pale and eyes wide with panic. Only Smoke seems unbothered, but his back has straightened minutely and Doc can see the way his fingers have started to tremble on his arm.

“Then you’d better go get him, yeah? I’m not going to be the one to tell the others we lost him because you were too busy pratting around to go and get him!” Smoke barks angrily, stumbling slightly over his words. Doc isn’t sure how much sleep _he's_ gotten recently, either, and it’s showing. Thermite winces and Ash seems to be on the verge of shouting at Smoke in retaliation, ever protective of her team, but holds it back behind thin lips.

“We can’t. The teams been out there for seven hours, now; they're exhausted. They need supplies. I’ve sent the armoured truck to go get them.”

“We’ll get a team ready to retrieve him, then. Send me the coordinates, we’ll ship out as soon as we can,” Ash says, voice sharp and as controlled as ever. Thermite nods gratefully at her, relief in his eyes.

“Will do. I’ll call you back to brief you in a few minutes.”

Ash nods grimly and starts tapping at her phone before turning on her heel and marching off.

“Have you heard from him?” Doc asks nervously. He thinks he might puke, should Thermite say no – Jäger was his responsibility, after all. He's the one that asked for Jäger to come. It’ll be on his back if they lose him.

His knees wobble beneath him at the thought, and he digs his fingers into the table top to steady himself again.

Thermite drags his hand down his face again. “Yeah, he’s alive,” he says, and Doc’s shoulders slump with relief. “He’s hurt – he managed to get out of the wreckage but fell and landed on something wrong. Says there’s nothing around him so he should be safe for now.”

“He armed?” Smoke asks, foot tapping quietly on the floor.

“Only with a flare gun. He’s lying low for now, but we need to get him as soon as possible.”

“Of course. Let him know I'm on my way,” Doc says tiredly, because if Jäger is hurt, he needs to go to him. He’s the only proper medic they’ve got, and whilst the virus isn’t airborne, they still don’t know how quickly it spreads. If Jäger’s got an open wound… well, Doc isn’t quite sure what they’ll be able to do but pray.

“You’ve been awake for three days; the only place _you’re_ going to is a chair to have a break,” Ash says from behind him as she storms back in, gear in hand. “Finka’s coming, she’s a field medic. I'm sure she can manage to give him painkillers and slap on a bandage. Ying’s getting ready now, and I think Kapkan said he’s coming too.”

Thermite silently disconnects the call behind him, the screen fading to black. Doc frowns, ready to argue. “I _promised_ to bring you all home safe-”

“So did I,” Ash interrupts with a fierce glare. “You’ll be no help out there, you’re not alert enough. Monitor the channels, call Blitz or IQ to let them know what’s happening, and _stay put_.”

That stings, but she’s right, Doc knows. He’s got his glasses on, he's drunk three pots of coffee, he can barely hold a pen steady- let alone his gun. He’ll be a hinderance.

He narrows his eyes but nods in wary agreement. “Fine. But I’m giving you all stim shots, and a couple of spares for Jäger. Just in case.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Ash says, a grateful look in her eyes, and she claps him gently on the shoulder. It doesn’t do much to sooth the panic still sat like a stone in his chest, but he trusts Ash. She’ll get Jäger out, one way or another.

There’s the sound of another pair of footsteps, quick and light, and Finka and Ying push their way into the ward, helmets clutched in their hands and guns slung over their armoured backs.

“Kapkan is on his way,” Finka says, nodding in greeting to Ash before turning to Doc. “I have morphine, gamgee, bandages, adrenaline. I need surgical spirits, if he’s hurt.”

Doc nods silently and heads to his cabinets, rooting around for the spray and tossing it over to Finka without looking. Ash is talking to Thermite again on the smaller screen, likely being briefed.

He steps back and turns to his desk and slides his case of vials out, cooled and prepped and ready to go. He takes out seven, which should be enough – one for each operator, including Jäger, then two spare. He presses three of them into Finka’s hands.

“Take off the blue cap at this end, and stab the other into the thigh,” he says, pointing to one of the vials. “Like an EpiPen, okay?”

Finka smiles. “I know, I’ve done it before,” she says calmly.

Doc winces. He knows that she’s perfectly capable, has seen her work enough times to have complete faith in her, but he's exhausted and he’s stressed and he feels ill with worry. He knows he’s being irrational – for all Jäger’s goofing around, he is an _exceptional_ fighter, and is more than capable of looking after himself.

As he slides the case back into its drawer, he becomes aware of the way his hands are trembling even more, the way his breath seems to almost rattle in his chest. He forces himself to look calm; if he starts to panic, the others will too, and then they’ll _really_ be in trouble.

(He wishes, not for the first time since arriving in New Mexico, that Montagne had come with him.)

When he turns back to the others, Kapkan is there, bags under his eyes but fully alert. There’s still blood staining his jacket – whether it’s his own or not, Doc doesn’t know. Finka would have told him if it were anything serious, he hopes.

He wraps the vials in gauze and hands them out, explaining how to work them as he goes – they’ve all been shown how to use them before, in case Doc can’t come on a mission, in case they get separated, but Doc needs to be sure they _remember_. The stakes are too high for them to forget.

They all nod in grim understanding as he talks, finding somewhere safe to stow the stims before gathering around Ash to listen to the plan of action, tension sat in their shoulders and backs ramrod straight.

Smoke nudges Doc in the ribs with a sharp elbow, and Doc startles.

“Go call your team, yeah? And the krauts. I’ll man the fort ‘til you get back,” he says quietly, softer than Doc has ever heard him be. Smoke is loud and brash and almost as bad as Bandit with his trouble making, but this whole ordeal has made him stoic and unusually serious, and Doc doesn’t quite know how to feel about it.

He nods, though, and claps a hand to Smoke’s shoulder. “Then you will go and rest, yes? And call your own team. There is no reason for you to stay up any longer.”

Smoke rolls his eyes dramatically but doesn’t complain, just wanders over to the small crowd and slides in to stand besides Ash.

Doc turns away and takes a breath, willing his hands to stop shaking. He's never been particularly religious, but he finds himself sending a quick prayer up to any deity that might be listening to let them get Jäger home _safe_.

He never did get his coffee, but he doesn’t really need it, he supposes. He needs to call Montagne or Rook or Twitch, and stabilise himself before he calls Blitz. He can imagine how the news that Jäger’s in critical danger will go down all too well. Either they will be calm (which is _highly_ unlikely, with how tightly-knit the four are) or they will get on the next flight over and demand to rescue Jäger themselves.

He slips into the small room he’s claimed as his own and collapses into the hard wood chair, taking a moment to steady himself again against the desk before switching on his laptop. If he remembers correctly, it should be about 09.30 in the UK. They’ll be awake, and if they're not, he’ll call everyone on base until he finds someone that is.

Montagne answers on the second ring, as he always does, and that simple bit of routine does something to sooth the panic still writhing in Doc’s chest. He smiles brightly, face pixelated, and Doc wants to cry, to reach through the screen, to go home to safety and away from this nightmare. The only blessing is that his team are safe, are in no more danger than usual.

“…Doc? Are you alright?” Montagne asks, worry lining his face as he leans closer to the camera. Doc realises that he hasn’t heard a word Montagne has said, hasn’t even greeted him.

“What’s happened? Are you safe? What’s _happening_ , you look _terrible_ ,” Montagne asks, panic in his voice that Doc would’ve missed if he didn’t know him so well.

“Jäger’s been shot down,” he hears himself say, eyes falling closed of their own accord and fingers pushing them into his skull, making him see stars. He feels ill, hollow and numb and burning hot at the same time, the calm facade he’d so carefully been wearing falling away in front of his oldest friend.

Montagne stills. “What do you mean, shot down? Is he _alive_?”

“He went to go and collect Thermite’s team and apparently these-“ he breaks off, leaning back in his chair and gesturing wildly, “-these _creatures_ , they’re intelligent enough to work together to bring down a helicopter. So they _did_.”

He can feel his heart rate spiking, the panic rising in his chest, and it must be written on his face for Montagne leans forwards again and peers at him, fear in his eyes.

“You’re panicking, Gus; remember to breathe,” he says softly, and Doc misses him so much it _hurts_. “Is he safe?”

Doc nods, forces himself to calm down. He’s no good to anyone if he’s worked up, Jäger least of all. “So I’ve been told,” he says. “He’s hurt but there’s nothing around him, so he’ll be okay for a while.”

“Weapons?” Montagne asks, as though it’s a normal sit-rep. Doc isn’t sure whether to be grateful for it or not.

Either way, it drags him into the familiar pattern of debriefing, and his pulse returns to normal as he talks through what happened, through the original aims of the mission and what’s happening now, details that Montagne doesn’t need to know but let Doc think through everything, process the situation.

When he’s finished, Montagne smiles gently at him, worry still present in his eyes.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” he murmurs comfortingly. “I know you’ll do everything you can, and if Mackintosh is correct with her theory, there’s no reason to worry. She’ll help you figure out a cure, and you’ll be closer to coming home.”

Doc sighs and drops his chin into his hand. “I know. He’ll be okay, it’ll be fine,” he says. “I’m sorry – it’s awful, out here. It’s taking its toll on all of us.”

“I can see that,” Montagne says quietly. “It is horrible for us, too, not being able to do anything to help. We’re lucky we haven’t had any missions recently or we’d be in trouble – I don’t think Fuze has slept in a week, and Thatcher is fussing over Mute like a mother hen. The sooner this is over, the better.”

“And you are all well?” Doc says, slightly ashamed that it has taken this long for him to ask.

Montagne smiles. “As well as I can be, with you gone. At least I have the kids, and they are okay as well. Just worried for you, but that cannot be avoided.”

Doc snorts, and can’t stop the smile from tugging at his lips. He’s not sure where Montagne has picked up his nickname for their two younger operators (probably in retaliation to them calling him _dad_ a few times too many), but it's sweet. “I’m glad they stayed with you. It is bad enough being here, it would be worse having to worry about the pair of them, with the trouble they attract.”

“Twitch sprained her ankle yesterday morning doing a handstand – don’t ask me how. I think Rook is carrying her everywhere until we find the crutches,” Montagne chuckles warmly. Doc rolls his eyes – Twitch had told him she hurt it running laps, but he’s not surprised to hear otherwise. It makes his chest ache, to think of his team and to know that he’s not there for them, _with_ them, but Montagne is right. He’ll be home soon.

(He hopes.)

His mood has lifted, though, and when he smiles at Montagne it’s genuine. “The crutches are in the old office, possibly beneath the table,” he says, because he doesn’t need a call from Rook whinging about his back aching from hefting Twitch everywhere. “And I need to go and call Blitz to let him know what has happened. I will keep you updated, yes?”

“Please do,” Montagne says solemnly, eyebrows still pinched with worry. He looks exhausted, Doc realises, and he vows to call the others to make them bully him into sleeping more. “Would you like me to fetch him for you?”

“It is fine, I’ll manage,” Doc replies. “But they’ll probably all come over on the first flight they can catch. Can you make sure nobody else does? There’s not enough room here for too many people.”

“Of course. _Please_ try to get some sleep. I wasn’t joking when I said you look terrible.”

Doc rolls his eyes. “I will as soon as Jäger is back. Say hello to the others for me?”

“Will do. Go and call Blitz,” Montagne says, then smiles. “I miss you. Keep yourself safe, yes?”

The words send warmth flooding through Doc’s chest. “I will. I miss you too. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Thank you. Goodnight,” Montagne murmurs, eyes soft, and then he's gone, leaving Doc alone in his office and significantly calmer than he was before.

He drags a hand down his face, suddenly overcome with tiredness, and the thought of a sleep is becoming ever more inviting. He’ll have a few hours before the team get back, he thinks – that’s enough time to have a nap. After he’s called Blitz, that is, or IQ, or Bandit as a last resort. Blitz will take the news the best, will not lash out at Doc for not protecting his teammate. Doc doesn’t think he can handle the accusations right now, no matter how true they may be.

So he sighs, squashes down the dread rising in his stomach and makes a quick plan of what he’s going to say before searching for Blitz’s number.

He can only hope they don’t take the news _too_ badly.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Will hopefully have the second chapter up by the end of July!  
> (I promise I'm working on prompts atm, I'm a lil bit broke rn so having to work a lot which is slowing me down)  
> Anyway, thanks for the love and support, it means so much!!!  
> Find me at katalicz.tumblr.com for strictly siege stuff or cronulicious.tumblr.com for anything else!


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